A Necessary Skill
by Bookwrm389
Summary: Every skill, no matter how trivial or unnecessary, was learned for the sake of helping them move forward. Juggling was no exception. Contains humor, slight angst, and brotherly love. And Armstrong.


_A.N. Just a little piece written simply because I couldn't get the image of Ed and Al juggling out of my head. I wish I knew how to juggle!_

A Necessary Skill

"Hm?!"

Ed and Al paused at Armstrong's startled exclamation and looked back. The major turned out all of his pockets twice and twisted around to check the ground behind him, mindful of the people stepping around him to get to the train on the platform.

"What's up?" Ed said impatiently. He craned to see the ticket counter over the heads of the crowd, scowling at the long line. This station marked the midway point between Risembool and Central and he was eager to get going so they could find Marcoh's research.

When Armstrong made no move to continue forward, Ed rounded on him. "The next train leaves in twenty minutes! We've got to hurry and get tickets!"

Armstrong turned back to them with an utterly lost expression, hands still digging futilely through his pockets. "My-wallet-"

"Is it gone?" Al said anxiously and he also began looking around. "Did you drop it somewhere?"

Ed sighed in exasperation and set his suitcase down. "Nah, it was probably a pickpocket. We've been to this station before and they're all over the place. Just kids, some of 'em."

"But that's impossible!" Armstrong insisted, at once indignant and mortified.

Ed unlocked the suitcase and began digging through its contents, throwing a snort of disbelief over his shoulder. "Why's that? Has the art of pickpocketing been passed down the Armstrong line as well?"

A low growl rumbled in Armstrong's chest and both Ed and Al shrank away from him nervously. "The Armstrongs are a family of noble descent!" he roared, catching the attention of everyone nearby. "Such petty thieving is beneath us, Edward Elric!"

"Okay, okay I get it!" Ed cried, waving his hands for emphasis. "We've probably got some money left, so we'll just…oh…"

Al leaned over his shoulder and Ed lifted his head with a sheepish look, holding out their empty wallet. "Okay, either those kids are just that damn good…"

"You spent _all_ our money?!" Al exclaimed. "What did you buy?"

Ed cringed at his brother's reprimanding tone. "Look, it's not _my _fault! Winry practically _robbed _me to replace some parts from my arm that were _supposedly _irreplaceable. And then I had to, you know, _eat_ once in awhile…"

"Don't you have _any_ self-control, Brother? I _saw _that bag of candy you bought in the last town!"

"I was faint with hunger! It was a necessary purchase!"

"Enough, boys," Armstrong said sternly. "For now, I suppose we'll have to find lodgings at the military compound here. I'll contact Central and have our superiors send us some money-"

"Ah, that'll take too long!" Ed complained.

"No more than a day or two," Al corrected him glumly. "But it would have been nice to get a little farther today…"

Ed straightened up and planted his hands on his hips as he surveyed the station around them. "Hey, Al. This is a nice, busy place, don't you agree? Lots of people commuting through?"

Al scanned the crowd around them. "I suppose. Wait, are you thinking…?"

Ed flashed him a grin. "We've pulled it off with smaller crowds than this, right? I bet there are _plenty_ of people here willing to fork over their spare change once they see us."

"Now hold it right there!" Armstrong admonished. "I understand you two are impatient, but begging certainly isn't the answer!"

Al held up his hands quickly. "No, no, we're not going to beg! We've got something else in mind."

"And that would be…?"

Ed threw his suitcase over his shoulder and led the way through the crowd with Al and the major right behind him. "Just trust us, would ya? We'll be out of here in no time!"

Near the wide open doors of the station, Ed found an open stretch of floor between two marble pillars that would work for his and Al's act. It was a good spot, prominent enough to garner attention without blatantly cutting off the path to the trains. He set his open suitcase down by a pillar and Al drew a transmutation circle in the floor nearby.

"What are you boys up to?" Armstrong said slowly, standing back to observe.

"Earning money," Ed and Al said at once.

Al activated the array and transmuted six black rubber balls from the floor, catching the attention of several people walking by. Ed took three of the balls, two in his left hand and the third in his right, and leaned back against the pillar behind him. Al picked up the remaining three and moved away to stand against the pillar right across from him, nearly ten paces away.

"Ready?" Ed called.

Al nodded and Ed immediately began tossing the ball in his right hand up and down. Across from him, Al began the same exact exercise with his left hand, mirroring him perfectly. Up, down. Up, down. Up, down. Armstrong and a few others watched them curiously and Ed suppressed a grin, keeping his expression completely neutral.

He added one of the balls from his other hand, juggling two balls with only his automail. A boy tugged at his father's shirt and pointed at him eagerly. Ed began throwing the balls up even faster, keeping his left hand behind his back with the third ball clenched in his fingers. He looked across the way, making sure Al was in the same place he was. Al juggled his own two balls with ease and already had five people staring at his graceful motions with their mouths hanging open.

Little did they know the brothers were just getting started.

Ed nodded at Al sharply and both brothers immediately threw their third motionless balls at each other. Their scant observers gasped, expecting them to drop the ones they were juggling. But Ed and Al each caught the flying balls with their free hands and lobbed them back and forth, neither faltering in the slightest. Back and forth, up and down, the juggling never stopped.

More and more people gathered around and Ed frowned when their suitcase remained stubbornly empty of money. He gave Al a meaningful look and they each caught three balls, bringing the act to a halt. A breath of disappointment came from the adults, but the children had no qualms about shouting for more.

Ed flicked only one ball up and down slowly, captivating the children with the motion that was only a taste of what they had seen earlier.

"We ain't doing this for free, people," Ed announced irritably. "We've got a train to catch too."

The children turned to their parents with pleading looks. Some simply shook their heads and pulled their kids away, but others wavered, looking between the empty suitcase and their wide-eyed children in discomfort. They could deny all they wanted, but Ed could tell some of them were just as eager to see more.

One particularly vocal little girl finally broke away from her mother and ran up to the suitcase at Ed's feet. She dropped two small coins inside and looked up at him anxiously, dark eyes practically brimming with tears.

Ed ruffled her hair gently. "Just for you, little one."

And he started juggling again, sending the balls soaring in dizzying arcs. The girl jumped up and down in delight as Ed made a show of it, switching up the rhythm and passing balls behind his back with ease. Her reaction made the other children chatter in excitement and the parents finally gave in, digging up coins and small bills for their kids to drop in the suitcase.

Al transmuted two more rubber balls and soon had the crowd transfixed as he juggled five at once, drawing in a steady trickle of money. Ed resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He had never been able to juggle more than three balls by himself, four if he was lucky, and Al never missed an opportunity to show off his mastery. The pile of money in their suitcase grew bigger and bigger and Ed kept one eye on the clock to make sure they wouldn't miss their train.

Once again he caught Al's eye and they started juggling all eight balls between them, reaching a level of difficulty they had only rarely achieved. Back and forth they went, keeping the balls in constant motion, and Ed had his hands full just trying to keep up as the crowd whooped and cheered. Some of the bolder children stood directly beneath the flying balls, reaching up to try and touch them as they zoomed above their heads.

At long last Armstrong leaned over the suitcase to count the money and gave Ed a thumbs-up and a beaming smile. They had enough. One by one, Ed and Al started tossing the balls to the children watching them. Once all eight were gone, they took their bows to a smattering of polite applause. Al waved at the children as they followed their parents away, some of them already throwing the transmuted balls above their heads in imitation of what they had seen.

"That was impressive!" Armstrong boomed on the way to the ticket counter. "Highly impressive indeed! That must have taken a great deal of practice and commitment. Where did you boys learn such a difficult skill?"

Ed and Al looked at each other. "Well…"

* * *

The bedroom door creaked open slowly and Ed turned his head at the noise, blinking in the gloom. "Al?" he rasped. "That you?"

"How are you feeling?" Al said softly as he ducked through the doorframe. "I thought you'd be asleep."

Ed suppressed a pained grunt as he pushed himself upright, thrown off-balance by the leaden weight of the new automail arm connected to his right shoulder. Underneath the blankets, the muscles in his thigh throbbed as they tried to cope with a leg that shouldn't have been there anymore.

Four grueling months of surgery had brought him to this and the work wasn't even half over. Ed spent his days alternating between relearning to walk and coercing his new arm into obeying him. It didn't help that his body had yet to adjust to the presence of the ports clamped around his shoulder and thigh, keeping him awake day and night from the constant, agonizing chafe of metal against nerve, bone and blood vessel.

And every moment he wasted meant another moment that Al had to live in fear of himself and the clumsy body he was trapped inside. He had broken so many things already-knocked pictures off walls, bent silverware between overlarge fingers, made Den yelp when he tried to pet him and gripped too hard. All of them accidents, all of them adding up until his little brother was terrified to _move_ let alone do anything else.

Even now Al hovered back uncertainly while Ed propped himself up on his pillows, too unsure of his own strength to offer the help he knew his brother needed.

"Al, get over here," Ed snapped, hating how hoarse his voice sounded. "We're going to try this again."

Al hung his head, not moving from his place near the door. "Brother, maybe you should rest today. You fell down so many times yesterday."

"And I'm going to keep falling down until I get it right," Ed said gruffly. "Besides, it's the arm's turn today."

"I can go get Winry or Granny to help you…"

"Alphonse," Ed murmured. "This is for you too."

At last Al gave in and moved to sit at the end of the bed gingerly. Ed breathed deeply and concentrated on simply moving his automail in the general direction he wanted it to go in. Sweat broke out on his forehead and the muscles in his back and chest strained to lift the weight, but at least he was able to move it now.

He reached for the nightstand beside him where a small bowl sat, filled to the brim with eggs. This time Ed had to watch carefully as metal fingers closed around a single egg. It was hard, so much harder than he'd thought it would be. Without the pressure on his hand he couldn't know for sure whether his grip was tight enough to crush the egg or loose enough to let it slip through his fingers.

This was how Al felt all the time. Every minute. Every day. With every move he made.

Al also picked up one of the eggs, cradling it in both hands without exerting any pressure on the fragile shell.

"Don't cheat," Ed said harshly. "Hold it right."

Al reluctantly shifted the egg to one hand and closed his fingers around the shell tentatively. When the egg remained whole, Ed nodded in satisfaction. "One, two, three…"

At the same time, they each tossed the eggs up to catch them in the same hand. Al caught his just fine, but Ed couldn't move his automail fast enough and the egg plunked onto the blankets before rolling off the edge and hitting the floor with a wet _splat_.

"Damn it," Ed snarled, shooting a hateful look at the metal hand. "I got to six tosses in a row the other day. _Damn_ it..."

Al waited for him to pick up another and, once again, they tossed the eggs up and caught them. Up, down. Up, down. It was a practice in dexterity, coordination and control for both of them. Every day a new bowl of eggs from the market and every day they advanced a little further.

Even in spite of the days when they seemed to be sliding backwards.

_Crack!_

Ed let his own egg fall at the sight of yolk slipping from between Al's fingers. His younger brother's hand formed a fist around the broken shell and the armor quivered, expressing Al's despair in the only way it could.

"Ed, I-I'm never going to get this right! I keep breaking them!"

"You'll get it!" Ed told him angrily. "Here, try again."

He grabbed another egg with his left hand and held it out. But Al just stared at his yolk-stained hands, refusing to continue the exercise that more often than not left them both frustrated and wishing they could give up entirely.

"I know you don't want to," Ed said more gently. "Do you think I like seeing myself this weak? I _hate_ it, alright? But sitting on our asses and ignoring it won't fix anything. We'll work past this. We'll pick ourselves up and train our bodies to obey us again. We agreed we would, right?"

It took several more minutes of cajoling before Al took up another egg and continued with him. And Ed was ridiculously grateful when he did because if Al gave up on himself for good, then he would probably do the same. Al may have thought it was Ed's resolve keeping them going, but really, it was both of them. Neither wanted to see the other fail. The only way to prevent that was by not failing themselves.

They both knew the payoff would be worth an infinite number of broken shells.

* * *

"…let's just say it was part of our training," Ed said hastily, dodging the question.

"Yep!" Al piped in. "It was a very good way to improve our coordination."

"And our concentration."

"And patience. We had to have a _lot _of patience."

"Well, well," Armstrong said thoughtfully as he looked between the brothers. He nodded in approval and puffed up his chest grandly. "This juggling seems to be a very beneficial exercise. I shall incorporate it into the Armstrong regimen immediately! From this day forward, the Armstrong family will be proficient jugglers, and the skill shall be passed down our line for generations to come!"

The major moved up to the ticket counter and Ed groaned once he was out of earshot. "_Now_ look what we've done. Pretty soon all those military banquets will have Armstrong jugglers as their entertainment."

"Is that a bad thing?" Al inquired.

"Think about it, little brother," Ed insisted. "All those muscles? The major's going to be juggling pianos in no time. Or worse, he'll combine it with his alchemy and juggle giant stone clubs with transmuted spikes all over them."

Al looked over at the enthusiastic major in alarm. "That sounds…dangerous…"

"Yeah," Ed agreed. "And if anyone asks…_we didn't do it._"


End file.
